


John's turn

by Danagirl623



Series: Tattoos [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Tattoo, tattoolock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: Just a sweet little prompt about getting a tattoo.Sometimes you meet someone and you think "Oh cool!" Sometimes you meet someone and you're like "Ew, no thanks." Then sometimes you meet someone and they give you so much-friendship, feedback, prompts. They share bits of their lifestory. They don't judge you when share yours. They send you pictures of their pets. They introduce you to a new fandom. They make you better. They make you laugh uncontrollably.So this story is for you. Thank you so much, Holdt. Thank you so much, Arya.Comments and kudos are appreciated.Thank you so much to my Beta, Mamba!Mamba





	John's turn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/gifts), [Aryagraceling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/gifts).



John looked at his boyfriend through the glass and couldn’t understand how he always ended up in these situations. Sherlock said something about how attractive his old, faded and battered tattoo was. Years ago when John was young and stupid, he had gotten The British Army Flag tattooed on his left shoulder. It had barely healed when he got shot right there. So now his Army flag was in tatters and his dear-so-smart-he’s-stupid boyfriend decided that John needed more ink. So Sherlock made an appointment with a man who owed him a favor.

Sherlock designed a tattoo that was based on who John was. The medical symbol, the music to “John’s Lullaby”, tiny Sherlockian scrawl that said “Dinner?” “Starving.”, a beige jumper, a stethoscope, a notebook, and a tiny Little Dipper constellation.

John stood outside the shop watching the people stream out. He still hadn’t figured out why he always ended up in this types of precarious situations with Sherlock. The reason is the same as it always was; John H. Watson was hopelessly and utterly head over heels in love with the bloody idiot known as Sherlock Holmes. John was positive that’s how he ended up where he was.

Stuck on the pavement outside of a tattoo shop at what must be closing time, because as far as John could see, it was only the artist and his boyfriend in the shop chatting animatedly.

Finally John took a deep breath and walked in with the ease of a former soldier that was fighting himself to remain in control. A habit since long groomed and rarely forgotten these days.

“Mr. Watson.” The tattoo artist rushed up from behind the counter to shake John’s hand. “You’ve got an incredible boyfriend. He’s the reason I still have my shop. When my ex-wife tried to take it in the divorce, he stepped in and saved the day. Uh, a silent partner he calls himself.”

He glanced at Sherlock with a smirk.  “It’s hard to imagine Sherlock silent. Very nice to meet you.” Then shook his hand.

“Jason.” He smiles.

Sherlock sighed then said, “John, “silent partner” aren’t actually quiet. It means-”

“Don’t patronize me.” John cut in.

Sherlock gave him a hard look, that meant “you’re choosing now to be sassy?”

Jason chuckled amusedly. “So where do you want this?”

“Right thigh.” Sherlock piped up. Jason raised his eyebrow questioningly at John, who merely shrugged.

“John.” Sherlock said in a voice that goes straight to his boyfriend’s cock. It’s deep and velvety. It reminded him of sex.

It’s a warning.

 _Ohh._ John grins as he thinks, _We’re playing! Huzzah!_

“That’s a fine location.” John grins sweetly at Sherlock. Something passes between them, and there’s a subtle shift in John. He lowers his eyes and his hands go behind his back.

“Ok, great. Let me go print out the pattern.” Jason walked into the back.

Sherlock turned to John with a domineering hungry look in his eyes. John shivered as Sherlock closed the distance between them. He placed his forehead to John’s bent one, taking both John’s hands in his.

“Finally you got it, have you?” he said, quietly. “I expect you to be respectful to Jason while he works. You must be quiet. It is vitally important. If you need to exclaim, do what sluts like you do and shove something in your mouth. If you understand me, squeeze my hand.” John did so.

“And you must absolutely stay still. Squeeze my hand if you agree.”

Again John squeezed his boyfriend’s hands. “If you behave, John Hamish, I will give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve had so far. If you fail, well.” Sherlock kissed John’s forehead. “Let’s not have to cross that bridge, eh?”

“Hey, Sherlock? I’m going to wear my earbuds. You want to hook up your music? I really am not in the mood for violins.” Jason called.

“Yeah, sure, Jason.” Sherlock took a step away from his boyfriend then turned back to him. In his Dom voice, the rich velvety sex one John loved, he said “Make me proud, slut.” John nodded very slightly. “Good boy.” Sherlock said, touching his cheek gently. There was pride in Sherlock’s voice just there. John was smiling as he fell into his standing sub pose. If one didn’t know better, they would think he was at parade rest. He stood with his hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, and his head tipped down.

Jason came over and set to work lining up the tattoo. John stood still and silent as Sherlock fussed for him. When final approval was given, Sherlock climbed onto the table first.

“Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in my lap, John?”

No response was made, except to climb up into Sherlock’s lap.

“If you need my attention, Sherlock, just tap my shoulder.” Jason slid his earbuds in and pulled his stool over to John’s leg.

John laid his head on Sherlock’s thighs. “Go ahead and get comfortable, my boy.” Sherlock said in a low voice, running his fingers through John’s short hair. John shifted onto his left side and tucked his hand under Sherlock’s legs.  “Comfortable, my boy?” Sherlock asked. John nodded slightly. Sherlock met eyes with Jason and nodded.

Jason bent over his work. John felt a cold gel spread over his thigh, then heard the buzzing from the tattoo needle. He waited. His heart beating wildly as Jason touched his thighs with two cold gloved hands. The needle buzzed again. John took a deep breath. The anticipation John felt was nearly tangible. It fizzled a bit when the needle finally- _finally!_ \- touched his skin. John suppressed the moan trying to escape his lips. He felt a tug on his hair that grounded him. He focused on the pleasant burn of the needle and the fingers in his hair.

John was chewing his lip. Sherlock grinned down on him. “What a determined boy you are.” Sherlock crooned at him. John smiled, but it quickly faded as he felt a bit of pain. John balled up fists, and panted through the pain trying to stay silent. He pulled a fist to his mouth and bit down hard. He reminded himself to keep his leg muscles relaxed.

Time passed in leaps and bounds for the first two hours.

Sherlock continued to card through John’s hair and shower him with encouragements. Sometime in the last two hours, John must have shut his eyes.

He forced them open and glanced up to Sherlock. A blazing look of love and pride was on the detective’s face. “I’m so proud of your excellent behavior. Not a single sound has come from your lips. Not a single movement. You are such an incredibly good boy.”

John grinned up at him, catching his eyes.

“Would you like a treat?” Sherlock asked, moving his hand to where John’s hairline met his neck. John’s eyes held questions in them. “Yes, that treat!”

Confusion, then comprehension.

Sherlock chuckled and very carefully pulled his fly down. He kept his breaths even and a calm look on his face. John’s eyes were wide. He was licking his lips in anticipation of his favorite reward.

John felt the needle again, and bit his lip a little harder than necessary. Sherlock ran his thumb through the blood, and stuck his thumb into John’s eager mouth. He sucked it gently and ran his tongue along it. Sherlock grinned at him, and freed his hardened cock from his pants.

“What a good boy!” Sherlock crooned, with a glance at Jason. He was absorbed in his work. Eagerly John opened his mouth and Sherlock guided his cock to the warm wet hole. As soon as Sherlock was in, he let out the quietest sigh. “Do you see what you do to me, boy, huh?” Sherlock asked.

John moved his head closer to swallow more of Sherlock down. Sherlock groaned, and pulled John’s hair. John moved his head back, leaving his hard cock a bit wet. He slipped his tongue out between his lips and eagerly began licking the swollen head.

“Good boy.” Sherlock said trying to keep his voice down. “Make it-” He cut himself off as John enveloped his leaking head in his hot mouth.  “Yessss.” Sherlock hissed, as John slowly swirled his tongue against his boyfriend’s head. Sherlock glanced towards Jason who was very much ignoring them and pulled John’s head closer, which caused John to swallow more of Sherlock’s cock. Quietly Sherlock shifted his hips in and out of John’s mouth.

“You’re so good to me, John.” He whispered quietly.

John sucked Sherlock’s cock as best as possible while staying completely still. John was the most turned on he had ever been. He was a swirl of pain and arousal. Sherlock gave his head a particularly violent shove forcing himself deeper into John’s throat.  He started sucking Sherlock’s cock desperately.

“Oh, god, John. I’m so close.”

John exhaled, and stopped sucking. He counted to twenty slowly in his head. Sherlock grasped John’s hair and pulled, and tried to wiggle his hips to get him to do something. Once he reached twenty, he began sucking as hard as he could. Sherlock gasped, and pulled John’s head into his brown pubic curls as he shot a load down John’s throat.

Sherlock was audibly panting and gently stroking John’s head. Slowly John leaned back and Sherlock leaned in the other direction to free his spent cock. He tucked himself away carefully and pulled the zipper up. He calmly went back to stroking John’s hair.

In a few minutes, Jason removed his ear buds, and said, “All done. Tell me what you think.”

Slowly John sat up, gripping the table and got to his feet. He kept glancing at Sherlock; who watched him the whole time he was standing up, focusing on the tent in his shorts.

John looked in the mirror at the tattoo. It was breathtakingly beautiful. John stared at it in awe. It was how Sherlock saw him. John nodded his approval, too overwhelmed to speak. He laughed in that awkward way he does when he’s about to cry stepping into Sherlock’s arms before he started. His throat was tight as Sherlock pulled him close to his chest. “Do you see how beautiful I think you are?”

John nodded as the tears fell out of his eyes. “Thank you Sherlock.” he managed to voice enough though his voice was cracked with emotion.

Sherlock grinned and placed sweet chaste kisses all over his face, making he laugh as he felt the emotion ebb away. John stayed out of whatever Jason and Sherlock were discussing, discreetly turning his head as money exchanged hands.

On the cab ride home, John was very snuggly. Sherlock smiled the whole way home as he palmed John’s erection through his shorts. John had his face buried in Sherlock’s neck making the sweetest noises. Only half words slid out of his mouth, while Sherlock stayed silent the whole time.

Once the cab reached the apartment, the two men disappeared inside. As soon as the door was shut, Sherlock pushed John against the door and started kissing him. “Sherl-” He tried to complain, as Sherlock’s hand skimmed over his aching cock again.

“You were brilliant. Amazing. You’re so incredibly sexy. Ahhh. so fucking sexy. God your mouth. The things you do to me.” Sherlock said. John hummed in pleasure as Sherlock complimented him and kissed and bit down his neck.

“John. John.” He panted, arouse again. “How do you want to get off?”

“Fuck me.”  John rasped, biting his lip again. Sherlock continued to palm John’s erection, meeting John’s eyes that were burning with a fire blazing.

“Oh, I will, but it’s your turn now. So how do you want it?” Sherlock fell to his knees in anticipation of John’s answer. John loved oral sex (ok, he did too!)

Sherlock worked his boyfriend’s belt and jeans open but John put his hands on the dark curls and a panted out a “Stop! You said I get a treat.” Sherlock nodded, his chocolate brown eyes boring into John’s blue ones. “I want to come on your face and I want to take a picture.”

Sherlock groaned with lust. “God, John. yes!” while pulling his pants down.

“Sherlock!” John moaned, as Sherlock greedily mouthed at John’s cock through his underwear.

“God John-” Echoed in that way that made his name sound like “Jawn.”

John pulled his own cock out of his underwear and shoved it into Sherlock’s mouth. “Just shut up and get me off.”

Sherlock ran his tongue around the head, causing John to be loudly vocal and start bucking his hips into Sherlock’s mouth, pushing himself all the way in while moaning unashamed.

“God, Sherl. I’ve been hard for you for hours.” He whined, as he fucked his lover’s throat. Moving his hips in and out at a rapid pace. His movements were usually calculated and slow to draw out the pleasure, but tonight. Tonight they were frantic, hard, and wanton. Driven by hours of pent up need.

“God Lock. your cock in my-” Sherlock grabs his boyfriend’s new tattoo and presses on it.

The pain hits John and he hisses but it soon recedes.

“Again!” John cried, as he rocked in and out of Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock pressed on John’s tattoo again and hums happily around John’s cock. The pain is exquisite. Burning and smarting like a hit from the crop, but a wider radius.

Sherlock pulls John’s cock out of his mouth until just the tip is in. He starts at the top of the head and licks a full circle around it, over and over. “John.” he says, with a whine. “Please. Come on me. John, please. I want your come on my face.” John feels himself about to lose it, and pulls out of Sherlock’s mouth. He shattered into a thousand- no a million pieces.

He spent a few minutes high as hell as Sherlock worked on staying calm. John’s come was all over his face and at first, it was warm. But now it was cooling and he could practically feel the stickiness. “John.” he whimpered, bringing his boyfriend back to earth.

John pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of Sherlock’s come covered face tilted up to him with his cock just at the edge of the photo. He tucked his phone back in shorts’ pockets, and tugged his lover to his feet. John quickly and methodically licked Sherlock’s face clean. Sherlock whimpered; not because it was sexy, but because he was still feeling grossed out from having cold come on his face.

“Yes, I know love. It’s-”

“Gross! Disgusting!” Sherlock shuddered.

“Oh, come on now, it’s not that bad.”

“You brush your teeth twice after I come in your mouth.”

“Sperm causes cavities.” John said, matter of factly. “But you my darling boy. My smart clever lad.” John cooed at him. “You were so good to me. The best head ever.”

Sherlock tucked his head into the crook of John’s neck, and bites. “Want to fuck you.”

“I know, love. Let’s go upstairs, so I can really clean your lovely face.”

“Now.” Sherlock whined, forcing John to turn around

Sherlock unbuckled his own pants, and pulled them down. Kissing and biting John’s neck and shoulders the whole time. He pulled John’s shorts down in the back, and pushed his legs apart. “Make it loud, John.” He said in that special velvety tone his boyfriend loved.

“Fuck me, Sherlock. Please. Make it burn. Make it hurt. Own me.”

“God!” Sherlock groaned, as he forced his erection in between John’s arse cheeks into that resistant circle of muscle. “You’re such a dirty cock slut, John Watson. In the tattoo parlor, you just opened your mouth and-” All the while talking and pushing hard into John. “You greedy cock-gobbling slut.” He said as his hips met John’s plush arse.

John was as verbal as he could be mostly saying nonsensical phrases but louder than normal. After staying silent for so long, it felt good to be loud. Hard and fast Sherlock fucked John’s tight arsehole. John arched his back to attempt to get fucked from a better angle. “Fuck me, Sherlock.” he said loudly, begging.

“God, John you dirty, filthy fucking whore. You should have seen your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

John moaned at Sherlock’s words and actions as he adjusted the grip on his boyfriend’s hips, pressing his fingers into old bruises. In and out, Sherlock worked his hips ceaselessly. “God, John your arse is perfect.”

“Fuck Sherl-” John shouted.

A loud slamming of a door interrupted John’s words. “Oh good lord, boys!” they both heard Mrs. Hudson lecture them. John rested his face on the wall as he felt a red flush creep up and down his neck. They both stopped actively fucking. “You two have a bedroom and have no problem using it any other time. Why are you ruining my wall like that? Defiling my vestibule!” She said, in her most disappointed voice. “Sherlock Holmes! I ought to box your ears. Screwing sweet John Watson who could never say no to you in public like this!” she made the “tsk” noise to show her disapproval. “I don’t blame you John dear. I know how headstrong Sherlock is.”

“Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock said, with annoyance in his voice. “Can I finish fucking John now?”

“Oh you beast!” She cried as she turned to go back into her apartment. “Repairs for that wall are being added to your rent, young man! You wait until I talk to your mother.” She said slamming the door.

“Fantastic.” Sherlock replied, very quickly moving his hips to meet John’s arse again. He established a break neck speed. The burn was fantastic. Sherlock moved his mouth to John’s ear, as he worked.

“You are the filthiest slut I’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking. Twice today you’ve had my cock-” here he bit John’s ear eliciting a yelp. “In your body in public.” Sherlock groaned, as he was close to coming. He pressed his fingers harder into John’s hips, and focused on fucking John senseless.

“Do you like when everyone sees you be a slutty little fag?” Sherlock growled the last word in John’s ear. John shivered in delight at his crass language.

“Yours. Only yours!” He panted

“John Hamish. You fucking masterpiece-” Sherlock growled as he came in John’s arse. John panted, leaning his forehead against the wall. “You think you can come again? Try for me.” Sherlock encouraged, reaching around to stroke John’s erection. “I love fucking you in public.” Sherlock whispers, pressing on John’s new tattoo with one hand while the other stroked up and down on John’s cock. “You get this delicious shade of-” Sherlock bite John’s sensitive ear again, and that pushed him over the edge again. The orgasm was weak, but satisfying. John sagged against Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock cradled his lover for a minute before he pulled out of John’s arse. John whimpered.

“I’m going to feel this later.” John said, as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Sherlock tucked his own cock away and pulled up his underwear and pants. He wiped John’s come on his t-shirt and pulled it off to clean off the wall.

Together they ascended the seventeen steps to their apartment. John threw himself down on the couch. “I’m as tired as a two pound hooker Sher.”

“Tea, love?” Sherlock offered. John wrinkled his nose for probably the first, last, and only time as an answer to such an offer.

“Bed.” John said, firmly. “Carry me.” Sherlock laughed, and pulled John to his feet. He turned around so John could get on his back like a spider monkey. (Damn his leg, indeed!)

“I love your legs wrapped around me.”

John whined as he fell off Sherlock’s back onto the bed. “That’s my line!”

“Seems like your whore germs have infected me.”

John started opening his shorts and wiggled out of them. “Don’t you dare, Sherlock Holmes. I want to be naked. I can’t have any more sex.”

Sherlock helped John out of his shirt with a giggle. “John, why ever not?” He pulled his own pants off.

John eyed his boyfriend wearily, as he shifted to his side of the bed. John glanced down as Sherlock removed his shorts. “What’s that?” he asked, seeing a similar tattoo to his own on Sherlock’s right thigh.

“What do you think it is? Do use your brain. It’s new sexy.” He climbed in next to John, and pulled him close. “It’s me, you see.”

John looked at Sherock leg. There was music winding down his thigh with a violin, magnifying glass, a riding crop (!), in tiny writing-John’s writing- “Dinner? Starving.”, and the Big Dipper constellation.

“Explain it” John demanded reaching out to trace the music. “Because all I see is me, and frankly it freaks me out.”

Sherlock adopted a “don’t be an idiot” tone. “ _Vivaldi's Spring_ because it was the first piece of music that I re-mastered after rehab and the shaking stopped. Obviously the microscope, magnifying glass, and the crop are for sciencing-”

“The crop? Just admit it’s because you’re a sadist.”

“It’s for experiments, John.” Sherlock insisted. “The stars are for the first night after quitting coke that made me realize I’m grateful I made it to through.”

“To me.” John said, settling his head on his boyfriend’s chest.

“And unquestionably the best of the of my life- “Dinner?” “Starving.” I wanted a compass to remind me to find my way home, but I realized the man that walks beside me carries my home in his arms. So I nixed that.”

John wiped a tear away from his eye, and scoffed “Stupid.” He tried to dismiss.

“I’m utterly, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with you.”

“Tell me what my tattoo mean.” John said, turning his head to kiss Sherlock’s chest.

“Are you going to cry more? I can feel it.”

“Yes, I am. So just get it over with.”

“My sweet and sentimental boy.” Sherlock said, affectionately as he stroked John’s hair. “Let’s see. The beige jumper is because you’re warm and cuddly like a stuffed teddy bear-”

“Hey!” John laughed.

“The medical staff and stethoscope are because you took the Hippocratic Oath. Pledging to do no harm and kick some ass.”

“That’s not the oath!”

“I thought maybe a tire iron or a gun-”

“Tire iron? You’re teasing me!”

“That time you shoved it down your pants and said, “Don’t think I’m not pleased to see you.” John-”

“Nope. Don’t remember. Was I drunk? Were you high?”

“Jooohn!” Sherlock groaned. “The notebook because you write. The “Dinner?” “Starving.” one because I had it in your handwriting. So I wanted it on yours in my handwriting. The stars to match mine because we’re a pair. You can’t have one without the other.”

“That’s literally the definition of a pair.” John yawned, lazily. The excitement of the evening catching up to him. “What’s the music?”

“ _John’s Lullaby_. The song I played on violin before we were together. Remember when you would wake up from nightmares and I’d be “practicing?” It would be some god awful time like 01:38 and you’d be mad as a hornet, but you’d forget about the nightmares.”

“I remember the music.” John mumbled as sleep stole him away.

“Just sleep, my love. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“We’re a pair.”

“Yes, my dear boy. I love you too.”


End file.
